Where All Past Years Are
by Novawings
Summary: [HMC] The tale of how the not quite normal Welsh boy Howell Jenkins became the Wizard Howl Pendragon.
1. Prologue

Author's Note

I felt this deserved a quick explanation. Hi, I'm here because I saw the movie Howl's Moving Castle, loved it, when out and bought the book the next evening read the entire thing and got this question stuck in my head: _How did Howl get to Ingary?_ This fanfiction is based off the book and will attempt to answer that question.

Please excuse and help me if I get a few details wrong, I've only had time to read the book once.

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, the world they inhabit, or anything else having to do with Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

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Where All Past Years Are

Prologue

Spending time in Wales hadn't done much to ease the unnerving feeling Sophie got whenever Howl dragged her there. But it had considerably increased her opinion of Megan.

True, she still thought the women rather unable to shut up and a bit unnecessarily harsh on Howl, but she was a wonderful mother and had an uncanny ability of knowing exactly when Howl was trying to sneak Mari out for ice cream. Sophie had tried the stuff they called 'ice cream' and besides it being unnaturally cold Sophie found it quite delicious and could almost understand why Howl would start mischief making over it.

One visit Megan had a large book situated on her lap and motioned Sophie over to look at it while Howl picked up a giggling Mari.

The book was filled with incredibly life-like portraits of a small boy with raven black hair.

"They're Howell's baby pictures." Megan explained. "I want to get started on Mari's baby book, so I thought I'd get a few ideas from Howell's."

Sophie was half listening to her, being more interested in the pictures of the two year old wizard in the bathtub and seemingly enjoying it very much. Some things apparently never changed.

"What are you doing?" Howl came over and craned his neck at such an angle that he could see what was in the book, or as much as possible with Mari on his shoulders. Alarms had apparently started going off since Megan hadn't immediately swooped down upon him with a lecture.

Sophie was going over another photograph of the same boy looking awkward in a maroon and plain school uniform.

"I was just showing Sophie some of your old pictures." Megan defended herself.

"And why on earth would you do something like that?" Howl demanded, almost comically incredulous.

"Come now Howell, bring Sophie home is the only thing you've ever done to prove you're not completely a lost cause!"

Sophie blushed a bit and pretended to be absorbed in the picture of ten year old Howl dressed up formally and posing stonily with his sister, who was wearing a long black gown and an odd square hat. Megan somehow made it sound like they were getting married or something. And they weren't...yet. And yes Howl had kissed her a few times since promising her happily ever after, and yes sometimes she couldn't help but think that Howl would be a wonderful father from the way he got on with Mari, and maybe once or twice she'd had the odd thought of what their children would look like or what her wedding dress would look like before squashing them flat, but that wasn't the same as a ring, was it?

Megan and Howl had started squabbling about Howl's state of lost-causeness, which was odd, because they were basically in complete agreement. Mari had climbed down from her uncle's shoulders to settle herself in Sophie's lap and trace her finger along the picture of Howl looking quietly happy and charming and holding a piece of paper that said something with the letters 'Ph.D.' in bold. It was one of the last pictures, which Sophie thought rather odd, because Howl didn't look much older than Martha in the picture. But it was fully possible she was wrong, Sophie conceded, since Howl didn't look much different now.

"Enough!" Howl finally declared. "Let's go out for supper."

Mari cheered. Sophie's reaction was significantly more subdued, hoping she wouldn't have to get in Howl's 'car' thing again.

"But Gareth should be home soon." Megan protested.

"It's nearly nine o'clock." Howl responded matter-of-factly in the same way he always did when the facts finally suited what he wanted, or when he had made the facts to suit what he wanted. "If he wanted supper, he should have come home sooner, hmm? He can make his own meal."

Megan scowled as Howl directed Mari to go tell Neil.

"You're welcome to come with us." Howl managed graciously to Megan as he offered a hand to Sophie, who was tactfully avoiding the sibling conflict.

Megan huffed and went to get her jacket as the children came thundering down the stairs. Howl winked at Sophie and led her to the front of the house from which the small party departed.

The album lay open on the coffee table behind them to the pictures of a dark haired Welsh boy who had never really been normal until Gareth returned home three quarters of an hour later and spilled beer across the pages.


	2. InWhich Howell Makes StrangeThingsHappen

Author's Note

These chapters are only being uploaded all together because I'm leaving tomorrow for a 20 day vacation and just felt that I wanted to put this out.

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Disclaimer: I own rights to nothing, least of all Howl's Moving Castle

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Where All Past Years Are

In Which Howell Makes Strange Things Happen

Unlike her friends, Megan was always painfully aware of her sibling. She almost always knew where he was and frequently what he was doing. It was like he would tug on the corner of her mind like he tugged on the hem of her skirt, demanding her attention.

It started sometime after he turned two. The same time that the novelty of having a son like Howell had begun to wear off for their parents. Megan wasn't a fool; she knew very well that her parents had never planned on her. The fact that her parents got married seven months before she was born was proof of that. Eight years later they had settled back and decided to have a child properly. Howell played well into their plans as a gorgeous and remarkably even tempered baby boy.

Sometimes in those early years, Megan thought she hated Howell because their parents were too busy cooing over Howell's first spit up to pay attention to her first day of school.

But then their parents started losing interest in Howell, just like they lost interest in everything else and from then on Megan was the most important person in Howell's life.

Their parents went back to living beyond their means and a parade of endless parties with Howell settling quietly into the background.

Howell didn't seem to notice at first. He was far too interested in making trouble for his nannies. They kept quitting because strange things seemed to happen around Howell. Megan distinctly remembered one time when Nanny Applebaum served Howell carrots and celery for a snack and came back to find him munching on cookies and milk. Nanny Applebaum had resigned not long after that.

Howell was nearly four then and Megan twelve. Their parents had started cutting their already monstrous expenses by sending Howell to preschool and making Megan a babysitter.

Howell did not like preschool. He did not like kids his age. He did not like the fact that Megan could not play with him because she had homework. Thus began Howell's tantrums.

His mother set quite an example for him in this regard. Mrs. Jenkins was not happy playing second fiddle to her husband and made sure this was abundantly apparent at every opportunity. Everyone knew their marriage was falling apart and whispered about it amongst themselves over Megan's head like being a child made her deaf and stupid.

Mr. Jenkins had as little tolerance for Howell's tantrums as he did for his wife's, but Mrs. Jenkins was quite happy to be given an opportunity for a scene and catered to them shamelessly.

They were hosting a party one evening. Megan was thirteen and Howell was five and a half. Regardless of the fact that his birthday had been only a month ago. Megan remembered being forced into a magenta taffeta thing and being stationed at the door to take coats. She knew exactly what had happened to that dress. She had taken exquisite pleasure in burning it years later.

Mrs. Jenkins sat at her make up table, admiring her reflection in the mirror. Howell looked up at her from his place on the floor. He'd had a fit when his father had tried to force him into his suit and thus been passed off to his mother. Mrs. Jenkins had cooed over the small boy as he dressed and told him to sit quietly while she fixed her hair.

She motioned to him then and he stood up smartly and allowed her to straighten and fuss and run a comb through his fine jet black locks.

"Your eyes are your best feature." She told him quietly. "They're just like the ocean. Where could you have gotten eyes like that?"

She laughed lightly. "Ah well. Would you do me the honor of escorting me downstairs?"

Howell automatically offered his arm and she bent down a bit to lay her hand on top of his. Their guests clapped as they came down the stairs, charmed by the boy's behavior. A smile tugged at Megan's lips.

"Patricia!" One of the ladies cried, coming over and hugging Mrs. Jenkins.

"Sarah! It's been absolutely forever hasn't it?"

"Oh it has! Howell is so big now! And such a little gentleman!"

Howell smiled and bowed lightly. His mother beamed at him.

"We brought Edwin with us, we though the two could play together."

A pudgy boy peeked out from behind the shelter of his mother's skirts.

"Oh what a splendid idea! Howell, why don't you go show Edwin the hors d'oeuvres table?"

Howell did not want to show the other boy the hors d'oeuvres table. He was rather afraid that if the other boy got any bigger he might step on him and not notice.

"Yes mother." He answered, then turned to Edwin. "Would you care to accompany me for some refreshments?"

The ladies tittered, amused. Edwin nodded. Howell was not impressed. Nor was his impression made any better by Edwin attacking the dainty food stuffs with all the zest of a starved lion. Howell wanted to grab one of the crab cakes, but was rather afraid that he might loose a finger in the process and thus held his hands safely behind his back.

"You know," Edwin began, obviously more comfortable when away from the adults and chewing with his mouth open. Howell resisted the impolite urge to wrinkle his nose. "You're kind of girly."

Howell blinked. What?

"I mean," Edwin explained, stuffing one of Howell's coveted crab cakes into the gaping black hole in the center of his face, not that Howell was bitter or anything, "You do all that fluffy stuff like bow and say 'excuse me' and stuff. And you're small. And your hair's kind of long. You just look like a girl."

Howell was trying not to scowl. His mother said he shouldn't because it would give him wrinkles. She said this in such a way that Howell was certain that wrinkles were a very painful thing.

"You know what my mom says?" Edwin continued, seemingly oblivious to Howell and talking more to his food. "She says that you're stupid too. That all the teachers complain about you."

"Do you know how to read?" Howell asked cuttingly. He'd had just about enough of Edwin regardless of what his mother had said.

Edwin eagerly grabbed a large piece of chocolate cake off the tray the caterers had brought out. "I read a little." He answered between shoveling spoonfuls of chocolate cake into his mouth. "Only adults know how to really read stupid."

Howell took a deep breath, why did he have to be polite when this pig came into his house and started insulting his family?

"Well I do know how to 'really read' and I'll give you a piece of advice. They're not teaching you anything in school that you couldn't learn out of a book."

Edwin seemed to consider this a minute, before laughing out loud. Howell almost ducked to escape any flying food projectiles.

"You are stupid, aren't you? You know what else I heard from my mom? She says that your parents are broke and that they're going to sell your sister before they give up their new car."

Howell could not take it anymore. He wasn't quite sure what Edwin was talking about anymore...who would want to buy his sister? But he didn't like the boy's tone. He was trying to think of something polite and scathing to excuse himself when he suddenly found Edwin's face planted in his chocolate cake.

The boy pulled himself out of the desert and wiped the frosting from his eyes, letting the remains of the cake fall to the floor.

"What did you do?" Edwin demanded. He did not wait for an anser, but scuttled off back to his mother.

Hours later Megan found Howell huddled in the corner of his bedroom talking in quiet tones to his spiders again. Megan would have rather squashed the eight legged creepy crawlies, but Howell like them for some reason.

"Hey." Megan called. She hopped up on the bed and winced as the taffeta followed the motion in noisy symphony.

"I didn't do anything." Howell announced.

Megan paused. "He wouldn't have just smashed his own face into the cake on purpose Howell."

The boy sighed and crawled up on the bed next to her. "Maybe I wanted it to happen." He admitted. "And maybe it was my fault, but I swear I didn't touch him!"

"I believe you."

"You do?"

Megan smiled. "Yeah. You're always been a little weird like that." She said, not without affection.

Howell didn't quite manage a smile. "He was saying some really mean things."

"Like what?"

"He said that Mother and Father would sell you to pay for the car, but I didn't quite understand what that meant."

Megan froze a moment. "Don't-don't worry about that. It's not true anyway. What else did he say?"

Howell drew his knees to his chin. "He called me a girl. And he said I was stupid. But he doesn't even know how to read!"

Megan smiled indulgently. "You know you're not a girl, and you know that you're not stupid. He's probably just jealous you know."

"Why would he be jealous?"

Megan usually didn't cater to Howell's fishing for compliments, but he'd had father yelling at him this evening, so she thought she'd make an exception.

"You're practically a certified genius Howell; you taught yourself to read and you're barely five! And I don't have to tell you how good you look, you own a mirror."

"But you look just like me." Howell protested. "Why don't you have people get jealous of you?"

Megan knew that Howell didn't mean to be insulting; he probably honestly didn't understand.

"Because I don't have your...charisma."

Any other little boy would have asked what it meant, but Howell just nodded, whether because he already knew or because he intended to spend some time with the dictionary later Megan didn't know.

"I wish Mother and Father weren't so busy all the time." Howell said abruptly.

Megan blinked. "I know, but maybe it's better this way."

Howell laid his head on his knees. "I don't like it this way."

"You want to change it?"

Howell paused. "I don't know."

Things would change for the Jenkins children, and they would change far quicker than anyone expected.


	3. In Which Howell Gets His Way Again

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Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Howl's Moving Castle. I am not making money off of this and I do not want to get sued.

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Where All Past Years Are

In Which Howell Gets His Way (Again)

It was a small affair to transfer custody of the Jenkins children to their grandmother after the tragic death of their parents. A social worker drove them to the looming old house the government promptly forgot about them.

Megan made sure that Howell kept on the tie that he loathed so much at the funeral and was then at the point where she was quite ready to forget about all of it herself. She was entering a boarding school for high school and their grandmother had taken over care of Howell, and, well, she was ready to have a life.

She felt horribly guilty about it at first, because her parents were dead and she was leaving Howell and shouldn't she be a better daughter than this? But then she remembered their parents had left them with a huge mountain of debt that they would never have been able to hope to pay off and that Howell had barely said two words to her since she had gotten him ready for the funeral, and it let her pack her bags and leave without looking back more than twice.

It wasn't like Howell wouldn't be taken care of. Their grandmother was independently wealthy and no matter what grudge she had held against her daughter and son-in-law she seemed determined to make up for their uselessness with Megan and Howell. Howell would be happy and it wasn't like Megan would be home for Christmas.

Howell didn't quite see it that way.

He was far from naive. He quite understood the concept of death and knew that his parents weren't coming back. The knowledge of this did not make it an easier pill to swallow. He missed his mother. He missed sitting and watching her to her make-up, and missed her combing his hair, and missed reading to her and having her dote on what a smart boy he was.

His grandmother did none of these things. She seemed far more interested in bustling around the kitchen, making sweets Howell's mother would never have allowed in her house and trying to get Howell to eat them or do something equally absurd, like clean his room.

To avoid this punishment, Howell started exploring the huge old house that his grandmother inhabited. Most of the rooms were dusty and the furniture covered in sheets for there were far too many rooms for their grandmother to maintain on her own. Searching through them gave Howell something to do, despite what little he found. When he could be coaxed to the dinner table his grandmother complained how he could never be found and how little schoolwork he did and how little he ate. Howell made a great show of ignoring her.

Until one day when Howell was stirring through the upper rooms of the house, throwing a tantrum because Megan wasn't coming home for his birthday despite it's close proximity to Christmas. The school board could have debated whether twelve days constituted 'close,' but to Howell, who had been receiving Christmas-and-birthday-presents all his life, the two holidays were of equal importance.

This day was immediately noted as different because there was a locked door. None of the other doors had been locked. Not for Howell. Some had seemed to be on the first try abut had ultimately yielded to bear their contents to Howell's curiosity. This door did not.

Howell was quite use to getting his way and was not ready to be put off by a door. So he kicked and pounded and even let out a cry of frustration once or twice but the door did not budge. Howell conceded momentarily, promising himself that he would come back to the stubborn obstruction. He moved onto other rooms of the house, all of which happily revealed their secrets to him, but his mind did not stray far from his locked door. A little more than an hour later Howell was standing back in front of his door, glaring at the brass of the know and trying to will it to open.

The lock gave a soft click.

Howell was so startled by the sudden sound invading the silence that he fell backwards to the ground. He quickly regained himself and instinctively glanced around to see if anyone had been around to witness his undignified tumble.

The door quickly drew his attention again. A more sensible child would have wondered what was going on and might be a bit wary to open the door. But Howell was not a sensible child and was quite used to odd things happening and thus had very little hesitation in opening the door.

The room was very much like the numerous others that Howell had entered: dusty, sheet covered, and dark. Howell groped for a light switch, but the house was old and this seemed to be one of many rooms still without electricity. Frowning, Howell moved forward to open the heavy curtains in hopes of gaining some amount of visibility. He stopped short when the candles of the old chandelier flared to life. Instead of being frightened Howell found this very convenient and continued over to the large mahogany table covered with strange lumps. He coughed as the dust flew up when he threw aside the white sheet.

The table was covered with massive leather bound tomes and dark parchment scribbled over with ink. Howell examined them curiously. He liked books; he liked them very much. Books told him everything he could ever want to know without stuffing the information down in song form like they did at school.

Howell picked a large green volume off the top of one of the stacks. The words on the cover were in a language he wasn't familiar with. He set it aside and picked up a duller, scrappier brown book. This one as in English.

"Transfiguration of inanimate objects." Howell read aloud from the first page. What on earth was that? He started flipping through the pages. There were strange diagrams and circle drawings that ranged from simple to terribly complex.

"What are you doing in here?"

Startled, Howell jumped a bit. He spun around to face his grandmother.

"I was just looking at the books."

He turned back to the green book that had first captured his attention. "I can't read this one."

His grandmother moved to stand behind him. Howell thought that she smelled of soap and cooking.

"It's Welsh." She answered matter-of-factly. "Don't tell me that your mother didn't at least teach you that much?"

Howell shook his head. His grandmother sighed. "I'll have to teach you then. But you shouldn't be in here. These are your grandfather's things, and they're very old. I could have sworn this door was locked..."

"But I want to look at them!" Howell protested.

"These are not books for little boys that do poorly in school." She stated primly and Howell frowned. This was another reason that he and his grandmother weren't getting along. She wouldn't let him have his way like his parents did.

"I want to look at them!" Howell stated again, stamping his foot for emphasis.

"I'll make you a deal then." She started, placing a firm hand on his back and leading him out of the room. "If you start doing well in school and keep up with the Welsh lessons I give you, I'll _give_ you everything in here. Hmm? How does that sound?"

Howell considered this. "That would be acceptable."

His grandmother chuckled. "All right then. How about supper?"


	4. InWhich Reunions AreNot Altogether Happy

Author's Notes

Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed! Knowing that people have actually read my work is probably the coolest thing about writing it.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing except the story line of this fanfiction. I lay no claim to the characters.

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In Which Reunions Are Not Altogether Happy

It was a dizzying high to be graduating. It was even better to know that she had a full ride through med school, courtesy of her grandmother. Megan had never thought her half hearted ambition to be a pediatrician would ever come to anything more than her ambition to be a princess, but her grandmother had taken the idea and run with it. And boasted loudly the whole time to anyone who would listen about her granddaughter answering to the noble call of healing her fellow man.

_That_ had been terribly embarrassing. Grandmother had showed up for her graduation ceremony with Howell in tow and made quite a scene in front of some of her friend's parents while Howell smirked.

Her friends had adored Howell. He was so cute (he was kind of small for ten) so precocious, and so polite! Each time he put on his gentleman act and offered one of them his arm they tittered.

There had been something though, gnawing at Megan more and more as the day progressed. Not something particularly _wrong_. Just markedly different about Howell.

His manner was the same. Charming and slightly superfluous. Howell was always on stage in front of the world audience. His speech was the same. Howell had always spoke with an easy intelligent grace, though in the past several years it had been adapted to fit the euphony of a pretty Welsh tune. His clothing was even similar to what Megan had seen him in last. Collared shirts and khaki pants. Never jeans. Ever.

He was happy for her. That much was easy to decipher from the myriad of emotions that Megan was picking up from him. But she was unsure whether her odd sense of Howell was making figuring the rest out worse or not. There was just a pervading sense of ... discontent about him.

It wasn't sadness or misery or despair; He didn't even seem discouraged with anything. It was just something that caused Howell to fall far from the shadow of genuine happiness.

Megan had promised herself that she would figure it out over her summer vacation. Grandmother had made an extremely generous offer to send her off to the French Riviera, but Megan had insisted on staying home. Her friends were here, she argued. And she had spent the past four years at boarding school, now she would be off at university, she wanted to spend some time with her family. In truth, she was still touched by an uneasy guilt about leaving Howell in the first place.

Which was how she came to be sitting in her own front yard for several hours, waiting for her brother and grandmother to arrive home and let her in. It was her own fault, she knew, because she had been so afraid that she was going to miss her train that she hadn't spared thirty seconds to call and tell them she was coming.

But it wasn't that bad really, Megan had just thought, when it began to rain. Megan had not been raised to curse, but in this case she made an exception.

"-can't believe that you would even think–"

"--a stunt like that!"

Megan stood hopefully as the voice of her grandmother drifted up the lane.

"– most important men on the school board!"

She could see them now; Grandmother shaking her head in dismay at her grandson who was peeling off a particularly stiff looking maroon jacket and looking down in distaste at the plaid tie.

"Hey!" She stood up and waved to them.

Howell's head snapped up. The rain abruptly stopped and Grandmother looked around curiously for a few moments before sighing and lowering her umbrella.

"Megan!" She called back and walked briskly forward to embrace her. Howell followed behind, juggling his jacket and the umbrella he had had thrust upon him.

Megan laughed out of pure joy. "It's so great to see you both!"

"It's great to see you too dear. I had no idea you would be coming so soon! I just took Howell to a meeting with some friends. Goodness! Look at you! Have you been out here in the rain this whole time? Howell, help your sister with her bags."

Megan submitted to her grandmother's fussing and waved Howell off when he tried to help with her trunk (it was bigger than he was).

"Megan?" He said quietly under their grandmother's chatter.

"Yeah?" She answered.

He smiled a little, not the bright charming one he used for show but he softer one that he only used when he meant it.

"I'm glad you're home."

She smiled.

"Me too."

The siblings were ushered into the kitchen where their grandmother being brewing coffee for Megan and tea for Howell.

"So you went to see some friends today?" Megan asked before her grandmother could start on something else.

"Hmm? Oh we were just visiting an old friend of mine. Her son-in-law is on the board of admissions for Eton."

"I'm not going to some stuffy prep school!" Howell protested.

"Hush." His grandmother admonished him as she set down their drinks.

Howell crossed his arms and glared at the tea set in front of him. "They're all idiots anyway. I could learn this stuff by myself..."

His mutterings went unnoticed by his grandmother, but not by Megan. She lifted her cup slowly to her mouth.

"Eton, really? Isn't Howell a bit young?"

Grandmother beamed. "Well yes. Traditionally he wouldn't be able to enter for a few more years, but his tutors say he's ready, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to look into it."

"Uh-huh." Megan tried to ignore the tight feeling in her chest. She was not jealous!

Grandmother laid a hand on her arm. "I'm sure you're tired dear. And you have to want to wash up from being out in the rain. I'll call you down for dinner later."

She nodded gratefully even as Howell looked at her inquisitively. He knew she wasn't really that tired. Her heart skipped a beat then when he called after her.

"Do you want me to bring your trunk up Megan?"

She let out a silent breath of relief.

"Thank, but I'll do fine without it for now." She tried to smile, but thought the effort was in vain. From Howell's skeptical look, she was probably right.

It wasn't that she envied Howell, Megan thought as she walked slowly to her room. It was foolish to envy Howell because, as Megan had realized so many years ago, Howell was on an entirely different playing field.

She hadn't reveled in Howell's academic failure. But there was a certain thrill that embraced her every time she came home with excellent marks for her grandmother to exclaim about while Howell looked up from whatever book he was reading and smiled at her before rolling his eyes when Grandmother turned on him with comparative scorn. It was a kind of payback for all the times when Howell had stolen away the attention of their parents.

Academics had always been her thing. She liked learning and reciting facts and being praised for her memory. She took great pride in getting stars at the top of her papers and was never the one receiving the sharp end of the teacher's red pen. She took great diligence in recording how many minutes she read, from what book, and practicing her math facts until she didn't even need someone to finish reading the problem to know the answer. She loved everything about the system that Howell looked upon in disdain.

She should have known that it wouldn't last forever though. If Howell wanted academic excellence, Howell would be phenomenal. That was just the way it was. If Howell really wanted something failure wasn't even an option that occurred to him. Solutions just came in nice, easy straight lines.

"Megan?"

Megan jumped out of her skin when she heard her brother's voice. She clutched a hand to her chest and whirled around to face him.

"Howell! Don't scare me like that!"

He paused. "I'm sorry."

She let out a slow, shaky breath. "That's okay. Did you want something?"

Howell nodded. "There's something I want to show you."

"Oh?"

"Grandmother says that when I finish with school she's going to give it to me."

Megan felt a sharp and sudden tiredness. "Not now Howell."

He blinked. "But-"

"Not. Now." She reiterated, then tried to smile to soften the blow of the words, but for the second time that day the expression failed.

There was something working behind Howell's eyes. Something bright and churning and just a bit cold. Something far and away that Megan could never recall seeing before.

"Sure." Howell smiled, but the expression and the sentiment behind it were equally false. Megan ignored the stab of guilt that came when Howell turned his back on her.

"I'll see you at dinner." He called.

There was a dull thud as Megan fell back against the door and sighed.

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	5. In Which Things Break Beyond Repair

Disclaimer: I do not own Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones and I am not in any way profiting from this fanfic.

In Which Things Break Beyond Repair

That particular summer was one that Megan would never forget. It was the summer she had her first real boyfriend, the summer Grandmother had a stroke, and the summer that she realized that she had lost Howell as her baby brother.

It was a minor stroke the Doctors told her. Though she did not understand how the blood flow in her grandmother's brain stopping and necessitating a weeklong hospital stay could possibly be described as "minor."

She seemed all right though. She was sitting up in bed when Megan took Howell to visit, though her speech and movements were painfully slow.

"May I have your pudding grandmother?" Howell asked, sitting on the bed with her as the old woman painstakingly managed each bite from the hospital food tray.

"Howell." Megan admonished him.

Grandmother chuckled. "Go ahead dear."

Howell happily dug into the Jello brand chocolate pudding.

Megan frowned and checked her watch. She was supposed to meet Gareth in an hour. "We're going to have to leave shortly Gran. Is there anything I can bring you from home?"

"Oh…I think I'm fine dear. I'll be back up and around before you know it." She winked at Howell who swallowed his mouthful of pudding and nodded up at her. "But while I'm gone, Megan, you make sure that boy and his motorbike stay away from the house." Grandmother gave her a severe look. She didn't like Gareth at all.

"Yes Gran." Megan lied sincerely. Howell looked at her and wrinkled his nose.

"As for you…" She poked Howell teasingly. "Keep up with your reading. But while I'm away...you can visit your room to keep yourself occupied."

Howell jumped on the bed. "Oh can I really? Oh thank you Gran!" He hugged her.

"Howell!" Megan admonished him again as he tackled the old woman.

"It's alright." Grandmother reassured her. "Be good children. I'll see you later."

"You have to come see Megan! The books! They have all of these interesting titles…and I bet if I followed some of the directions…" Howell chattered happily in the backseat as Megan drove them home.

"Mmm-hmm." Megan agreed without really listening. She wondered if she would have time to change before Gareth picked her up.

He was the kind of boy that Megan never thought she would date. The kind of boy who always look right past her to the busty blonde over her shoulder. But one day she had stopped off at the coffee shop in town and Gareth had smiled at her and made some vague remark about the weather and forgetting his umbrella. He offered to buy her coffee if he could get a ride home and Megan had nodded, too dumbstruck to speak.

"Megan." Howell broke in on her thoughts. "Why is he here again?"

Gareth was leaning against his motorbike in their driveway. He smiled when he saw her and pulled off his sunglasses.

Megan nearly blushed. Howell scowled.

"Hey babe." He greeted her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Hi Gareth." She answered.

Howell slammed the car door harder than was strictly necessary.

"Hey pipsqueak." Gareth greeted Howell, leaning over to mess up his hair. Howell glared up at him in response.

"So you ready to go babe?" Gareth asked.

"Megan." Howell nearly shouted before she could answer.

She tore her eyes away from Gareth to look at him. "What is it Howell?"

"You said that you would come see my gift from Grandmother." Howell insisted. "And you said you'd make me lunch."

Megan did blush then and hoped fiercely that Gareth didn't think of her as some kind of nanny. "Howell, you can make your own lunch. And I will come see your gift later."

Howell was not satisfied by this answer at all. "But--"

"Aww come on squirt. Let your sister go and have some big-girl fun for a while." Gareth smiled at her as he addressed Howell, putting an arm around her waist.

Howell frowned. "I'm twelve you idiot, not two."

"Howell!" Megan interrupted him. "Go in the house. _Now_."

"But!"

"Now!"

Howell stomped his way into the house to the sounds of Megan apologizing behind him. He leaned up again the door until he heard the roar of the motorbike fade into the distance.

Hours later, Howell's anger hadn't subsided.

"I hate him!" He hugged his knees to his chest as he lectured the spiders. "I hate him and his motorbike and the way Megan turns into an idiot every time he comes over." He seethed. The spiders scurried about as if in agreement.

"You would think that with Gran in the hospital she would be around. You think that after four years of being away she would want to talk to me. But no…" He made an emphatic gesture. "She just wants to hang out with her stupid boyfriend!"

He curled his arms around himself again, making himself into a smaller ball. "I don't understand. He's so _stupid_."

His gaze landed on one of the spiders that is sitting warily a foot or so from the others. It was a fairly large spider, about the size of one of the copper pennies Gran had showed him from America. It was all black and reminded Howell for some reason of Gareth with his stupid leather jacket and his stupid black sunglasses and his stupid motorbike and his stupid smile that made his sister laugh stupidly! He concentrated all of his hate for Gareth on the one little spider, trying to force the emotions on the spider as if doing so would remove the crushing pressure he felt in his chest.

Abruptly the spider stopped its stirrings and fell over, frozen.

Howell nearly jumped. Did he--? He couldn't have. How could he--? He unwound himself and cautiously leaned over to look at the unmoving spider. "Hey." He addressed it.

It doesn't move. It simply lies there like it's broken, it's legs curled in slightly. Howell prodded it gently with one finger.

"Hey." He tried again, though he didn't know if the spider could even hear him. Did spiders have ears? Probably not. He would guess they could sense something from the vibrations in the air though.

"Hey." He repeated, almost desperately. "Come on, get up." It was more a desperate request than a command. "Please." He tried. "Please get up."

The spider remains unmoving on the floor.

"Howell!"

He jumped at the sound, expecting some kind of divine vengeance. Instead Megan stood over him, frowning.

"What are you doing on the dirty floor with those bugs? Get up."

"But Megan…It won't get up." He tried to explain to her. "It won't get up and it's all my fault."

She sighed and leaned over him. "Eww. Howell, it's just a dead spider. We'll sweep it up tomorrow okay? It's late. You should be getting to bed."

Howell swallowed. "But Megan…I did it. I killed it!" He could feel tears forming, warm and heavy behind his eyes.

"Oh Howell. It's just a spider. Don't worry about it. Come on." She offered him her hand. "It's time to go to bed."

"But Megan!"

" God! Howell it's just a spider! I thought you had outgrown this kind of nonsense!" She sighed, calming herself. "Come on." She said then, calmly but with a great deal of self-control evident in her tone. "It's been a long day for all of us. Let's just—go to bed."

Howell looked up at her, frowning at him, hair still windblown from her ride of the motorbike, offering him her hand so she could lead him away and not be bothered by his childishness any longer.

He ignored her offered hand and stood up on his own.

"Fine." He answered her in his most adult tone. "See you in the morning."

He brushed past her and she looked after him. "Howell…" She offered too late.

The next morning he woke up early and snuck back into the room and picked up the tiny spider corpse and wrapped it in a tissue and buried it out in the garden. He marked the spot with a small stone and offered a promise instead of a prayer.

"I'll never do it again. I won't hurt anyone with magic. Not even Gareth. I won't. I won't…"


End file.
